Negotiating For Love
by Rezicca
Summary: During the signing of the Treaty of Ghent, England has a few things to say to America. UK/US. Sort of citrusy. Please R&R! UK/US or US/UK, however you look at it.


**So, I've had this idea for a while. I'm not too happy with how it came out, but eh. Finally sat down today and wrote it for a good friend. J, I hope you like this!**

**Basically, this is about the Treaty of Ghent, which was signed December 24, 1814. Fair warning, it isn't too historically accurate, but I think it's accurate enough. **

**Rated T for language, foreplay and stuff. Not exactly a lemon, sorry. Still sort of citrusy though. Enjoy! Please R&R!**

England looked out the window at the snow that was beginning to fall and sighed. It would be a long night. Behind him, the English diplomats were already seated and talking merrily amongst themselves. How they could be so lively astonished Arthur.

"_We must leave for Ghent soon, sir," _he had been told several days prior. _"The Americans have informed us that they are willing to negotiate with us for peace."_

The news had been wonderful, to England's boss at least. The war with that blood frog had…Arthur gripped the windowsill so hard at the thought of France that his knuckles turned white.

"Sir, might we request that you speak with America first? If he is willing to accept our tearms of the treaty, perhaps his diplomats will as well." England nodded at the diplomat, biting his tongue as the gray-haired man resumed his conversation with the other two men.

_America…_ Arthur's mind hurt as he thought of his former colony. The betrayal, the rejection, those eyes as blue as the clear sky…and the goddamn frog he had chosen over him.

There were two knocks at the heavy, wooden door. Immediately, England turned from the window to face the entrance as the British diplomats climbed to their feet and the one closest to the door opened it to allow the Americans to enter.

The room was silent as Alfred F. Jones and the three diplomats entered, save for the crackling of the fire in the red brick fireplace nearby. Arthur bit his lip; he could barely recognize the former colony.

His sandy hair was much longer, and it seemed as if America had grown even taller since their last meeting all that time ago. The soft, innocent face looked harsher, a little more lined, but still the young face that Arthur remembered.

The Briton sighed as he sized up the American. Good heavens, what was the young man _wearing_? It looked like some sort of leather jacket with the bloody American flag stitched onto the back. The last time they had seen each other, America had been dressed smartly in the suit England had given him all that time ago. He had been surprised that the suit still fit the still-growing…country. America had become a country. Scowling at the memory, England looked down, his eyes beginning to tear up.

The diplomats greeted each other, making small talk as Arthur beckoned for Alfred to follow him into the adjacent room. The young nation glanced at a small, stout, balding man who nodded, then shrugged and followed England.

_What am I even supposed to be negotiating with him for?_ The older country asked himself, frustrated.

_Peace_, a small voice in the back of his head told him as America entered the smaller room and England let the door close behind them. He was supposed to be negotiating for peace. But that was a given!

"We're going to be negotiating, right?" America asked as he took a seat in one of the large armchairs that wqere located in the center of the elaborately decorated study. England nodded and sighed quietly, taking a seat across from Alfred.

"Well, we want Canada," America continued, not noticing that England refused to meet his eyes. "My boss wants Florida as well."

Arthur said nothing, looked everywhere in the room but at America.

"I kicked your ass twice in fifty years. My boss wants us to expand. And considering-"

"You didn't beat me," England snapped, cutting America off, "This was a draw."

Alfred shrugged and leaned back in the armchair. "Sure."

Growing more frustrated by the minute, the older country jumped to his feet, the chair he had just vacated moving back a few inches.

"And the only reason you ever won all that time ago was because of that goddamned…" Arthur closed his eyes and sighed, trying to control his temper as he turned away from his former colony. "Why he ever helped you…other than to get back at me…you fucked him, didn't you?" His voice was suddenly cold as steel.

"What?" America looked up at England in surprise and confusion. Words failing him, England took another step away from the younger nation as a quiet sob escaped his lips.

"You fucking heard me! Goddammit, America!" He turned to face the young man again, losing control quickly. "Did you or did you not fuck France?" Alfred looked down, sighing, not sure how to answer.

"Arthur…" he couldn't bring himself to look into those piercing and…pain-filled…green eyes. "You wouldn't understand!" He cried, turning away. No, no, no. This was all wrong. "I didn't know what else to do! We needed help! I…I couldn't be under your control anymore, England! And if you got me back…you just won't understand! He came, he offered to help. And I accepted it! And then next thing I knew…well what other option did I have?"

The American flopped into an armchair, his hand covering his eyes. Engand simply stared, hurt welling up in his chest. He couldn't look at the blonde man anymore. Turning, he walked over to the oak desk in the corner of the study, leaning over it as two tears made their way down his cheeks.

"Arthur…" The Briton ignored him as the American made his way over to the desk and wrapped his arms around the smaller man.

"We should be negotiating," The older nation choked out, his eyes still closed.

"We are," America whispered, still holding England. "Arthur, I want another thing as well."

"I suppose you want the whole fucking Oregon territory too, right?" He snapped and moved away from Alfred, refusing to even look at the man.

"Goddammit Arthur!" The American ran his hands through his shaggy blonde hair, frustrated. "Do you not understand? I don't want to fight with you anymore. Twice has been enough!" The younger man sighed and walked to the other side of the room, looking out the window at the snow.

"That's the whole reason we came here, the reason your diplomats contacted us. For a peace treaty. Your government doesn't want to fight with us anymore. My boss doesn't want to fight with you anymore. I don't want to fight with you anymore. Don't you get it? Do you even understand?" The young blonde sighed, still looking away.

_I'm being selfish_, England realized as he watched America.

_But I want to be selfish._

_Oh, to hell with it._

Unsure as to what he was doing, England marched to America and shoved him against the wall, pressing his lips roughly to the larger man's. Alfred opened his mouth slightly in surprise, and the Briton took the opportunity to gently probe the younger man's tongue with his own. His hands moved to his shaggy hair as the kiss deepened, and he could feel America's fingers clawing at his back. But almost as quickly as England had initiated the kiss, he ended it, pulling away from the younger blonde.

"I'm sorry," he apologized emotionlessly as he straightened his clothes. He couldn't breathe; his heart was pounding in his chest. And he knew that if he even expressed any emotion he would be back in America's arms, and that hurt too much to think about. "I shouldn't have…there's no way you would have wanted-"

"Arthur, I've wanted that since I hit puberty," Alfred blurted out, his face hot. When the older nation said nothing in response, America crossed over to him and pushed the green eyed man against the desk, kissing him again. His lips, his tongue, his smell was heaven to England.

"Not here," he hissed as America brought his lips to his neck, nipping gently on a rather sensitive spot. Immediately, Alfred pulled back, watching England smooth his hair and straighten his suit again.

"Tell your diplomats…" he gasped, his heart pounding as if it would burst, "tell them that… Maine, some territory on the Pacific Coast, and Michigan…tell them that it's yours. But… Canada and Florida…we're not giving it to you.

"_Status quo ante bellum." _He choked out, closing his eyes as more tears threatened to spill. "No, wait, come over tonight. Perhaps we can discuss…goddammit Alfred, if you knew how in love with you I am…"

"I already know," America whispered as he wrapped his arms around England. "And I love you too." Arthur turned and kissed America's temple before sighing and wiping his eyes.

A few moments passed before Arthur found his voice again.

"We should go back." He proposed quietly, his heart still pounding. The weight of it, of his confession, hadn't set in yet. America nodded and stole a kiss before straightening his jacket and walking out the room, leaving England to collect his thoughts.

_Tonight…_

The door opened and the two nations stumbled in, slamming the door behind them as more and more clothes were quickly shed. America shoved England roughly onto the bed before climbing on top of the older nation, trailing gently kisses down the man's bare chest.

"I love you so much Arthur," Alfred whispered as he moved back to the blonde's lips, deepening the kiss as England tangled his fingers in the shaggy blonde hair.

"I love you too, Alfred." England sighed as America once again moved to his neck, nipping that sensitive spot as one hand dipped into the older man's trousers.

"Like hell are you going to conquer me," Arthur growled as he swapped positions with America, kissing the young blonde with the stunning blue eyes once again.

"How about a special relationship?" Alfred proposed in response to Arthur's question about their relationship. He turned on his side to rub his thumb against England's cheek before kissing the man again.

"Mmm…" Arthur sighed in response, his eyes still closed.

"Hey Arthur?"

"Hmm?"

"Merry Christmas," The American whispered before kissing England again. "And thank you." England smiled and opened his eyes, kissing the tip of the American's nose and pulling the younger man into his arms.

"No," he breathed softly into the blonde's ear. "Thank you for…" But the American had fallen asleep. Smiling to himself, Arthur kissed Alfred's temple before whispering "I love you" and joining his lover in whatever dreams may come.


End file.
